Keogh's Springs, just as Hunter had predicted, lay the threatened camp. But how were they to reach it unobserved? for here and everywhere the Kid could point out fresh pony-tracks, and even as they paused at the belt of pines, away out on the slopes beyond, hidden from camp by intervening rises in the ground, dark forms of horsemen, three or four, were plainly visible, and the Kid could tell from old experience that nothing living would escape those watchers' eyes. But up the slope the trees were thicker, and again, though wearily, they sought their shelter, and slowly crawled from clump to clump until towards three o'clock they were nearly opposite the sleeping camp, lying out there in a lovely glade, barely long rifle-shot away. Twice, thrice they had seen an Indian on nimble pony, moving cautiously about, well out of sight of camp. Time and again the coyotes yelped and loud-mouth challenge was bayed by suspicious watch-dogs near the tents, but still the Saxons slept all innocent of danger, and time was getting fearfully short. "What's to hinder our crawling out as far as we can go? then, if we're seen, shoot the sucker that tries to stop us, and run for it," muttered the Irishman. "It's the only chance I see." The moon was well over to the west, but still so high her light betrayed every moving object in the open ground; but, as the Kid explained, there seemed to be no other way. Down went the two flat upon their stomachs, and the slow, tortuous process began. Before they had made a hundred yards Celtic patience gave out. "Damned if I can stand this," Isaid the Irishman. 66 There's not an Indian in sight now. Come on. Let's run for it." Suiting action to the word, the little sinner was on his feet, and in another minute skimming away like a racer to the goal. And then as Hunter started to follow he saw a sight that made him thrill with dread. As though they sprang from the bowels of the earth, two Indians on swift ponies darted into view, and bending low over their chargers' necks, lashing them to mad gallop, they fairly shot across the resounding, turf-clad prairie, swift and straight towards the scudding form. "Look out, Kid! Look out!" rang Hunter's voice in a yell that woke the valley. Bang! went the Paddy's ready carbine in reply. Dogs, coyotes, carbines, rifles, Indian yells, and Saxon blasphemy burst upon the silence of the night. An Indian pony plunged and tossed his rider sprawling within a dozen yards of where the Kid had turned at bay, and Hunter, rushing to the rescue, had just time to kneel, when two or three revolvers seemed to crack at once, and the air was rent with fireflashes. But the soldier's aim was true, and one tall warrior toppled heavily forward and bit the dust as Hunter sped on to his comrade's aid. He found him clasping his hands about his knee and rolling in agony on the turf. "For the love of God, don't stop!" cried he. "They've smashed my leg, and I'm done for. There's a dozen to one of us." Dozen or not, they were in for it now. Hunter knelt, and, though his heart beat hard, sent shot after shot at every flitting form he saw, until, amazed at the vigorous defence, the Indians seemed to haul away. Then up he lifted the protesting Kid and lugged him full another hundred yards before again he had to drop him and fight. Then once more, half lifting, half dragging, he rushed him on, cheered by the evidence that the Indians dared not come too close and that camp was aroused and blazing away. Luckily, the guides had quickly realized what was up. Luckily, they reasoned that there could be but few Indians in the immediate neighborhood, for out they came-three or four-to the succor of the burdened man, and reached him only as, exhausted by his efforts and by loss of blood from a wound hardly noticed when received, he sank, fainting, to the ground, the Kid still pluckily swearing in his arms. And so, an hour later, when the Indians swooped in force upon the camp they found it thoroughly prepared, surrounded by hastily con |